


The Occult

by Ryuufubuki



Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: John Constantine Being an Asshole, John Constantine Needs A Hug, Magic, Team as Family, Young Justice Season 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21520138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuufubuki/pseuds/Ryuufubuki
Summary: Still recovering from the events of his past, John Constantine finds himself at a loss when he loses his mentor to the Helmet of Fate. Determined to find a way to bring back Zatara, John finds himself thrust into a world of heroes and partners wanting to prove themselves. Yet, with larger forces at play, Constantine must make a choice: destory the Helmet of Fate or help save the world alongside his team.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to The Occult. I've been messing with the idea of a crossover between Young Justice and Hellblazer for quite sometime, and finally settled into this idea of having a younger John Constantine as a member of the team.  
> I've changed the timeline of Young Justice a bit to adapt to this so Zatara becomes Doctor Fate after episode 7 of season one and Zatanna probably won't be part of the team in the future.  
> As for Constantine, he's about 15 at this time and he began to study the occult pretty early before meeting Astra at about the age of ten as more of a friend. Afterwards, he begins to study under Nick Necro who get jealous of Constantine's high magic ability. And finally, Zatara takes in Constantine as his apprentice.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this, and I'll post new chapters as I write them. And let me know what you think!

The Occult 

When John first learns of his mentor's fate as the vessel of Order for the rest of his life, he's fighting a demon who delights in tormenting him with the knowledge. At first he doesn't, refuses, to believe it, yet, it'd explain a lot and he eventually can't deny it any longer. But, he doesn't allow himself to be phased, after all, losing people was a given in the Occult field. He knew Zatara wouldn't live forever, yet he hadn't expected the end to come so soon. And if the death the demon finally succumbed to was through a much more painful means than Constantine usually preferred, well no one was any the wiser. If the bloke got a few lucky hits in the process, he hasn't the mind to pay it attention.

Afterwards, he returns to the safety of the House. It hums in contentment at his presence before descending into a trill of worry at the blood steadily soaking his side. It pokes and prods at his mind, urging the use of healing magic. It asks for an explanation to his energy, it'd been a long time since he'd been reckless enough to sustain such an injury. While it may not speak, he hears it's words in every creak of the floor boards or crackling of the fire.

"You have a talent in understanding the House," Zatara had once commented as he ran a gloved hand along the spines of the books lining the walls. He'd only shrugged back then, it had always been that way since he won ownership. It was never something that mattered, but all the same, he'd eventually asked why. Zatara had cited his excess magical power, before dropping the subject.

John pushed aside the House's insistence, pulling books about possessions from its shelves as he calls for an empty room. The House's annoyance is obvious, but easy to ignore all the same, and it has no choice but to listen, creating a small room to fit his needs.

And while he's not ignorant to the passing of time, he isn't sure how much of it passes. Yet, when he wakes up, having passed out either from blood loss or exhaustion, there are no papers or books strewn about. The half written magic circles scrubbed away. Cigarette buds, and empty liquor bottles that once surrounded him vanished. And the dried blood that had began to soak into the floor beside him is erased. 

The windows flood the room with the early morning light of a sunny beach, a place that the House had been frequenting as of late. It's still livid with concern and frustration at his refusal to treat himself earlier. But the moment he's healed his side he expects that to be the end of the matter. Instead, he's forced out of the House, spitting out sand when he lands face down in the beach.

"What the bloody hell!" he chokes out, whipping his head around to glare at the House as its doors slam shut. He's back on the doorstep in an instant, pounding on the door and twisting the locked knobs. John's own frustration grows into a string of obscenities as the House lets out a sullen protest.

A rush of disapproval floods his sense as an unseen force knocks him back on his ass in the sand. "Let me in!" he snaps, sand giving away in his scramble to get up as the house begins to vanish. 

"Don't you dare!" he orders. It has no right to do this. He won the House fair and square and it was his only to command. Not to mention it's the only place to possibly house the secret to getting rid of Fate. The only way to get Zatara back. 

But it's gone before he can get up. And just like that, he's alone. The crash of the waves and sun beating down around him. And so horribly alone. 

It was Zatara who had always been by his side at these times. Even when Constantine felt as though the whole world was against him, the magician had stayed by his side. 

And now he was gone and he couldn't do anything about it.

Fists pound into the sand, grains poking into his skin and he kneels over, eyes red rimmed as unbidden tears begin to flow. He hadn't felt this helpless in a long time. Not since Astra. Not since Nick. 

The moon is high over head by the time the fifteen year old finally unfurls himself, standing alone on the darkened beach

+++

The next week is a blur of jobs, booze and blood. 

The Hellblazer takes whatever jobs he can find, but not all of clients are happy when a chain smoking, possibly drunk, punk British teen shows up. It's only the more dangerous jobs that don't pay any mind to his state or his age. But the near death experiences are worth it if only to retain his rather unhealthy addictions.

"Someone your age should not be partaking in such things," Zatara had reprimanded him once. Constantine had gone to light up a cigarette during an investigation into a case of demonic possession. He didn't think the magician would have a problem with it, after all, others in the occult field had barely given him a second glance for his less than desirable habits. But Zatara had helped him kick the habit, at least before now.

Returning from his jobs heavily injuried more than once, he wonders which one will be his last. Which demon or sorcerer will finally get a lucky blow. None of the succeed of course, but many of then come close in his exhausted state.

Happy Harbor becomes his base in the House's absence, only ten minutes from the beach he'd been left on. It's a short walk, and he returns each day, waiting and wondering when or if the House would ever return for him.

But it doesn't.

Friday night he returns to the condemned apartment, drenched in blood, and unaware how much of it is his. In the back of his mind, he realizes how easy a healing spell would be, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't bring himself to perform one. 

As soon as he opens the door, he's only able to catch a glimpse of black, blue and gold before his vision blurs and his wooziness tightens its hold over him. He feels himself drop, and someone catching him, but he can't stay conscious enough to see who it is. 

This was it. Someone found him and was going to get his revenge. Finally, he wouldn't have to worry about facing Doctor Fate, about never finding a way to get Zatara back. 

+++

Batman watched as Dr Fate half ran towards the young man as he fell to the ground. He'd seen the man behind the mask battling with the entity that was Fate since he'd put the helmet on. But this was the clearest sign that Zatara still existed somewhere in them. To think, it was all because of the young man Zatara had mentioned introducing to the team.

Doctor Fate, meanwhile, was holding the youth in his arms, kneeling on the ground as he supported him. The teenager was covered in blood, and a clear stab wound bled freely from his abdomen. "He needs medical attention, stitches probably," Batman said as he examined the boy, "the mountain's infirmary should be equipped to deal with his injuries."

Doctor Fate steals a glance at him, seemingly searching Batman's gaze. The Dark Knight knew well enough that Fate had a reason for seeking out the boy. But he had promised Zatara, during the magician's short time as himself before becoming the vessel of Fate that he would look after Constantine. 

Whatever the Lord of Order wanted from the teenager couldn't be good. No matter how heroic Fate was supposed to be, Batman had doubts about the entity's methods. The last thing he would do was allow Fate to gain whatever it was he wanted from John Constantine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman has a promise to uphold, even if Constantine is reluctant to let him do so.

Steel blue eyes inched open, almost instantly closing once more at the harsh light that floods his vision. A steady beating filled the otherwise quiet room, and Constantine took a few moments before he worked his eyes open again. Staring into the blank white of the ceiling and the machine monitoring his heartbeat to his side. His head was pounding, as if he was hungover, but even that was too good to be true judging by the room around him.

"Bullocks," Constantine cursed. He's met by the expectant faces of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and of course, bloody Doctor Fate as his eyes scan the rest of the room. As much as he'd like to rest until the pain stopped contributing to the fog building up it his mind, there was no way he'd allow himself the decency of weakness in the face of the capes before him. It was a slow, and agonizingly painful process but he pushed himself into a sitting position wincing as the splitting pain in his side increased, and glaring spitefully at the Lord of Order. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you wankers."

"Relax son, you were badly injured when Batman and Dr Fate found you," Superman begins, already moving as if to ease him back down on the bed. The boy scout only halts when Constantine's glare refocuses on him, looking far too much like a cornered animal for the League's comfort. So, with a slightly put out sigh, Superman took a step back, giving Batman a helpless look.

"John Constantine, you have my word that you are safe here."

He turns his head so fast, it's a surprise he doesn't get whiplash. Because even though this is Doctor Fate, the heartless bastard known far too well for taking over his host, John can only hear Zatara's voice. And he hates it. To him it's only a reminder that he will never have one of his closest associates back, that Zatara willingly put on that helmet, that John is alone again. "Did you also give Zatara your bloody word that he could take off that helmet after he put it on?" he growls, fists clenched in his lap.

It's infuriating enough to see Fate unphased by his response, but another for the entity to remain so impassive. "I gave my word to him that I would release him once my intended host is ready."

Despite himself, John ducks his head, fevertly trying to ignore the way Batman gaze sears into his soul. It would be a wonder if Batman didn't blame him for Zatara's state, they had been close after all, and John could still remember the first of the many times they had worked together.

"You remind me of him John," Zatara had said when they split up to follow different leads.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he'd muttered past a cigarette as he dug through his pockets to find his lighter.

With a scowl, Zatara had pulled the cigarette away, giving his apprentice the usual disappointed sigh. "You've both become heroes because of the pain of your past. Despite wanting to help others, you both think it as something you have to do alone so those you are close to do not get hurt."

"I don't know if you've noticed," he said with a roll of his eyes, "But everyone involved with me dies eventually. It's only a matter of time before something happens to you too."

He hated being right.

Even before he'd become involved in the Occult, no one stuck around long. He'd wanted Zatara to be different, he'd hoped he would be. But now, as he chanced a glance at the golden helmet before him, well John couldn't kindle that hope any longer.

The room is silent, if only momentarily as Wonder Woman and Superman look unsure, Fate impassive and Batman calculating. Finally, the Dark Knight speaks. "Give us a moment," he growls in his usual gravelly voice. His covered eyes are directed towards the other capes, but the three heroes leave without protest. 

Once the door clicked shut to what must be the infirmary Batman sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside John's hospital bed. Neither of them are big talkers, at least not if it isn't necessary. But today the silence between them feels somewhat melancholy, it's only been a week since they've both lost a mentor and a dear friend. It's hard not to let the sorrow swallow him back up like the day the House left him on the beach.

"I'm sorry," Batman eventually says.

Constantine stiffens but nods, unable to meet the Dark Knight's eyes. "It wasn't your fault," he says carefully, "Why am I here, Batman? Doctor Fate should be bloody well able handle whatever magical threat the League is dealing with."

If it's possible, Batman's scowl deepens even more. "I wasn't looking for you for a mission. Before Zatara put the helmet on I promised him I would look after you if something happened to him," Batman states.

"I don't need looking after, I'm not a child," Constantine almost instantly snaps. 

"Your injuries from when I found you say differently."

Constantine bristles, barely biting back a snappy retort. "I could have healed myself."

"Then why didn't you?" Constantine's silence speaks volumes enough for the both of them. And instead of pressing for an answer, Batman continues. "I intend to keep my promise to Zatara and to keep you out of Fate's path. I may not know everything yet, but Fate has too great of an interest in you for you not to be protected against him. The League can do that for now."

"Fine. But I'm not joining your team of sidekicks."

++++

It was somewhat of a relief to be out of Atlantis, to have such faith in his decision, both to become Aqualad and to stay as such. He could only hope the team would be willing to welcome him back after he had limited them so with his brief hindrance in leadership skills. Still, it is no surprise to see Batman still in the mountain seemingly never have moved from when the teenager had first left.

It is a surprise to see the unfamiliar teen standing beside the Dark Knight. Dressed in a trenchcoat, white button down and loosened tie, Kaldur cannot place the young man as someone he has seen or even heard about. But while Atlantis teemed with the magic of its many dwellers, this teenager radiates a strong magic himself, almost matching what Kaldur had sense from Zatara previous to...the helmet. 

"Made your decision?" Batman asks suddenly.

Despite himself, Kaldur almost jumps, lost in his own thoughts of the mountain's visitor who meets Kaldur's observing gaze with one of his own, as if he were sizing up the Atlantean. He's the first to break their contact, crossing the room to Batman. "The decision is made," he finally responds, feeling the weight of his words as they leave his lips, "I am here, one hundred percent."

The screen before Batman turns off as the Dark Knight gives what Aqualad can only imagine to be a proud grimace. "Just in time to meet your new teammate," Batman gestures to the teenager beside him, who appears less than thrilled, "Aqualad, this is John Constantine."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Kaldur responds, offering his hand.

The other accepts it, taking the few steps over to him as they shake hands, "Charmed mate, I'm sure."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team takes on a mission to Bialya, risking their memories as a team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone whose checked out this story so far. I'm about to go into finals week so I don't know when I'll have the next chapter done quiet yet. 
> 
> There's a couple things about this chapter too. I know Kaldur can speak English six months ago, but for the sake of this chapter he can't or was at least not fluent enough. This chapter is longer than the last two and hopefully they'll just be getting longer.
> 
> That's all I can think of for now, anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter.

John Constantine, Exorcist, Demonlogist and Master of the Dark Arts, wakes up to a considerable amount of pain.

His head throbs, and he's vaguely aware of a wet feeling both on the side of his head and deeply embedded into his abdomen. There's a deep rooted dizziness that threatens to overwhelm him, and John finds himself curling in on himself, desperate to get away from it. It's more than difficult to do so with his hands cuffed together in front of him, yet he still takes a few moments to breathe past both the pain and gag in his mouth before he can begin to work on the lock.

As much as he'd like to say otherwise, it wasn't unusual to find himself in such a situation, at least considering the amount of enemies he'd made during his time in the world of the Occult. But, the last thing he can remember was Zatara teaching him a new spell, which decidedly did not account for his current predicament.

The air around him in hot, almost unbearable in the small space of hard metal he unfurls into. And the hum of an engine is a dead give away of the nature of his temporary prison. Finding it better to know who his enemy was, John takes a deep breath before kicking at the metal. Either it will draw the attention of his captors or maybe a random civilian who won't want to leave a teenager trapped in a trunk. 

Unfortunately, it's the former of the two that happens. Bright light floods into the darkness, and Constantine can't help but screw his eyes shut as the sudden onslaught of light. When his eyes finally adjust to the light he catches sight of the needle in his captor's hand. There's not enough space to move and in a matter of seconds, whatever was in the syringe is injected into his arm and he's cast back into darkness.

It's at least nice to know that whoever has him doesn't want him dead yet. And while injected with an obviously strong muscle relaxant, it doesn't kill him. Instead it just feels like a disconnect between John and his body, delaying his movements and slowing his thoughts. Somewhere, deep inside, he knows he ought to be concerned about it, but he can't put his finger on why. 

It takes him a few moments to actually register what's happening when it begins. Vaguely he can hear muffled shouts followed by gunfire and explosions. But then he's suspended in midair, lasting only momentarily because before he knows it he's knocked against the hot metal surrounding him. As light and sand begin to seep into his makeshift prison before he finally blacks out.

+++

By the time he wakes up and squeezes himself out from the overturn truck, the sun is already setting, dying the sand dunes around him a deep orange. It takes a few moments, trying to fight back the sudden onslaught of memories blurring together and mind numbing pain before Constantine is able to pull his gag away. The banging in his head makes him nauseous, and he spends several more moments kneeled over, fighting back any queasiness.

How ironic for his last coherent memory to be Zatara beginning to teach him a healing spell.

Through the distorted haze lingering in his mind, he's barely able to make out a sound nearby. Bloody, bruised and hands still cuffed together, he's not about to let someone lock him up again. "Whoever you are, I'm a nasty piece of work, ask anybody," he shouts, his voice cracking from lack of hydration. 

While keeping an eye on the rocky outcropping nearby, Constantine holds the handcuffs up examining the lock before he says a quick spell under his breath. The metal cuffs drop to his feet without further effort on his part, and rubbing his wrists, he investigates. It's all he can do to not fall flat on his face, the relaxant still taking hold if most his body, forcing him into an awkward stumble across the dunes: it's honestly surprising he can walk at all. It's only more of a surprise to see the Atlantean from the visions that plagued his mind once waking collapsed in the sand, muttering incoherently.

"Bloody hell mate, a bit far from the ocean," he says, falling down to his knees at the teenager's side. He only gets a soft groan and mumbles in response but John doubts the teenager is capable of much more.

With a reluctant sigh, John scoops up a handful of sand. He doesn't have much energy to waste, but he also doesn't know how long the Atlantean has left if he doesn't get water. And he'd be damned to have another person's death on his hands. "Canh manera auqa," he whispers into his hands. The effect is instantaneous, the grains dissolve in his hands into water, and he slowly dribbles it from his palms and into the Atlantean's mouth. 

The teenager's eyes open enough to give him a pleading look, and John lets out a reluctant sigh before he scoops up more sand and repeats the spell. This time it rebounds him into dizziness, but he still manages to get most of the water into the Atlantean. At least his new friend is sitting up, and noticing John's dizzy state steadies him until the feeling passes.

Still, it's all he can do not to worry. While merely a dull throb right now, Constantine can feel the burning build up of his excess magic and the absence of the sealing spell. Sure, he'd worked with Zatara to control it, but the older magician has said they wouldn't try to unbind it for another month. Was this what he'd been kidnapped for? To take off the sealing spell? And if so, who wanted it gone and why?

Sensing his worry, the Atlantean watches him. But John waves him off after a moment, "Thanks mate." 

As much as he wants to rest and find out what happened to the sealing spell, the night will be cold and they're out of water until John can perform the spell again. Something he doesn't want to risk until he knows he can keep control of his magic. And while his head and side wound have stopped bleeding, he'll need to get them treated, hopefully Zatara is available. But he doesn't have a way to contact his mentor or the materials for a transportation spell, so for now it seems the only option is to walk.

The Atlantean, whose been watching him carefully, seems to reach the same conclusion, standing up on unsteady legs. "Kaldur'ahm," he says, holding out his hand.

"John Constantine," he replies, taking the Atlantean's help up. 

They find sets of footprints nearby, and without another option they follow them. Whether they lead to some sort of settlement or John's captors remain to be seen, but at least they'll be able to find food and water. Yet, there's a nagging feeling that whoever left these print are okay, and that maybe there is a better solution than walking through the desert. 

A few hours later, with the moon high overhead, they hear the sounds of gunfire. And it takes little more than a nod for them to race towards the fight. The scene they stumble upon isn't bad by any means, in fact they four other teens there seem to be more than capable of handling the masked gunmen. Still as one aims his gun towards Robin, who he'd worked with on a handful of occasions, John doesn't hesitate. "Erecserc," he chants, flicking open his lighter, stretching out the flame and causing the guard to startle enough for the invisible force to push him away. 

Kaldur'ahm catches him before he can collapse, the overuse of his own magic sickening. And the others make quick work of the rest of the guards before Kaldur and John stumble towards them. 

"Man it's good to see some familiar faces," Robin said, clapping hands with Kid Flash. He shoots John a worried glance but the sorcerer waves it off.

"Hey Rob," Kid Flash greets, "memory loss?"

"Six months! Let's hogtie these creeps and compare notes."

As the others get to work on securing the gunmen, John and his Atlantean accomplice are put of watch duty, which mostly involves letting the wizard rest. He feels guilty, after all the others are probably just as worn out as he is, but still coming to terms with the fact six months had probably passed since his last memory isn't the most thrilling thought.

"So we're a team?" Robin clarifies as the Martian, Miss Martian, finishes her story.

"The six of us and Superboy."

Robin reaches into his belt, before pulling loose a scrap of black fabric and hold it out to Miss Martian. "Then this must be his," he says, and just barely, John catches sight of the red emblem on it. 

The Atlantean beside him glances between the others in confusion but John feels just as lost as him. What could have possibly happened in the past six months to join a team of teenagers even if Batman was the supposed leader. He'd tried hard to work alone, well Zatara was the exception but the magician knew enough to look out for himself. 

John didn't even make a habit of hanging out with the capes crew unlike his mentor. Sure the heroes were good for some stuff but they rarely held an understanding of the magic interwoven into their very society. Nor did they completely understand the price involved. Batman he could tolerate but beyond that, well the chances of him joining a team were zilch. 

Of course, the universe seemed to enjoy proving him wrong as there was a flash of light. And he, along with the others were in a purple landscape with what could only be memories flashing around them. 

"What the bloody hell is this?" he asked, looking to Miss Martian as she appeared. He'd been in plenty of mindscapes before, allowed entry by magic but this was new. 

"I've brought you into my mind to share with you what I remember so far. But I need your help. Together our broken memories can form a whole if you open your minds to mine," Miss Martian said, looking somewhat shy even at just announcing her idea. 

It wasn't the worst plan. But Constantine didn't know, couldn't remember how long he'd been a part of this team. How much he'd told them. How much they knew about him. How much they trusted him.

Even if it was to regain their memories now, how would they feel to know what he had done to others. Did he even care what they thought? 

"You want to paw through our private thoughts!" A least he wasn't alone in his thoughts on the matter. 

"I have no wish to intrude but-!"

"You need to hack minds to get what happened to us. Got it. Go!" Robin encouraged.

"My brain is all yours. Try not to let it's brilliance overwhelm you," Kid Flash agreed.

John rolled his eyes, considering it for a moment more. "It's all yours love," he added. He set a hand on the Atlantean's shoulder and while the language barrier remained stable, the teenager nodded, hopefully understanding just what he was agreeing to. 

The archer looked towards each of them, almost in disbelief, and only relaxed when Kid Flash stepped forward, taking her hand in his. "Last six months only," Artemis finally agreed, "and only what you need."

The memories themselves came in flashes. From the events of the previous months to Zatara becoming the new host of Fate to joining the team and finally to their mission. The end was sudden, but the mental overload of six months of memories returning all at once was enough to make them all weak in the knees.

"What happened next?" Robin questioned.

"I don't know! That's the last thing I...we remember!" Miss Martian exclaimed.

"We should contact the League," Kaldur says, his voice a dry rasp. He doesn't look good, almost as bad as he did when Constantine first found him. "Miss Martian can you call the bioship?"

"We're out of range and Superboy's still here!" M'gann protested.

"We've been out here for twenty four hours sweet cheeks. My stores are empty, Constantine's injuries, and we're all dehydrated. We can't help him like this," Kid Flash reasoned.

"Six months ago Superboy didn't exist, he has no memories, just animal impulse. I'm the only one who can help him!" Miss Martian replied. "I can't leave him!"

"No one wants to leave him. But the only thing we'll do if we rush in now is get ourselves caught again," John added. He felt Kaldur go slightly limp beside him, leaning back on the wizard for some sort of support. Despite his own exhaustion, he does his best to remain stable for their team leader, even if it's all he can do to stay steady.

Despite their best reasoning, Miss Martian won't have it. Not that John blames her as she vanishes over the sea of sand, it'd been a hard lesson for him to learn that you couldn't save everyone. So for now, the team before him takes priority. 

How much longer can Kaldur go on without a supply of water? How long can Wally go without food? What about the others? Can they even make it back to the bioship?

The only relief for him is that with his memories returned, he's able to once again control the flow of his excess magic. His memories…

"We don't need to go back to the bioship," he blurts out, interrupting the others bickering about how to get back before they all collapse. 

Wally sends him a skeptical look, "We can't just wait here. Who knows when Miss M will be back."

As much as he wants to, John doesn't roll his eyes at the speedster. Instead he passes Kaldur to him and takes a few steps forward. Six months ago he barely knew about the House of Mystery, but now, he owns it. And in a matter of seconds the magnificent manor is standing in front of them among the sand dunes. Seeing the look of surprise the team has is worth it. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the House of Mystery."

They crowd into the entryway of the House who lets out a soft hum of greeting over Wally's rant of how a house can't just appear out of nowhere. "It's magic, mate, it doesn't have to make sense to you," John replies.

It's comforting to be back. And a surprise that the house even came for him, after all he hadn't seen it since it left him on the beach. But it only expresses its own guilt for leaving him there, even if he can understand why it did so now. "Make yourselves at home for now. The House will take us to the bioship where we can wait for the others," he says, helping Wally sit Kaldur down in one of the plush chairs in front of the extinguished fire place.

The offer is enough for Wally to forget his skepticism about the House's existence, instead scanning the room. "Does this place have a kitchen?" he eventually asks. 

Constantine nods, feeling the House's own mirth echo throughout the room before he points to a random door. "Just be careful not to get lost," he says, but the speedster is already gone in a blur dragging Robin along with him.

He checks on Kaldur again, making sure the House has provided him with a glass of water on the end table to his side before he directs his attention to Artemis. "This place is amazing," the archer states, finally taking a seat across from their team leader.

"Ay, it is pretty brilliant," he replies, "Won it in a card game a couple months ago. Filled to the brim with all sorts of dangerous magics."

He grins when Artemis adopts an uneasy look before adding, "Don't worry love, it's under my ownership and won't do anything against my guests. For now it's a good place for us to hole up. If M'gann hasn't returned with Superboy before morning, we'll figure out what to do next. Our fearless leader should be hydrated enough by then."

Artemis nods before her eyes refocus on something and she frowns. "Let me help patch you up," she says, "it won't do us any good if you bleed out."

The team is half asleep by the time they hear Miss Martian's voice. A relief in and of itself. She reaches them before too long and the group of bedraggled teens board th bioship.

Maybe, being a part of a team wasn't such a bad thing.

+++++

"Erecserc."

He watches the screen as the sight of fire floods over the camera before the solider is pushed away. Pause. Rewind.

"Erecserc."

Fire.

Pause.

Rewind.

"Erecaserc."

Perhaps it was finally his time to announce his return.


End file.
